


Three Lives Wasted

by BurningBright22



Category: Original Work
Genre: POV First Person, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningBright22/pseuds/BurningBright22
Summary: It's been ten years since the world ended. Somehow, we survived, though Lord only knows how (I know how).Outsiders are dangerous. Strangers unwelcomed.Until He came.Is he a Messiah?Or is he Lucifer, here to laugh at us as we grasp blindly to hope.





	Three Lives Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm biting the bullet and I'm going to try to write this story that has been in my head for years.

_ “This is the way the world ends./Not with a bang but a whimper.” - The Hollow Men, T.S. Elliot _

 

They say that you can remember the exact action you were doing during tragedy. I was too young, but I remember hearing people share what they were doing when the news of 9/11 happened. I would have to agree with the vague  _ them _ .

I was at dinner, at my friend’s house. We were sent to the basement to grab wine. Her parents loved a nice red wine with their steak. It had to be a steak night, why else would we have been in the basement? What other reason would we have for grabbing wine?

We were grabbing wine, were we not? I know what I was doing in the moment, but not before. When the End happened, we had just reached the bottom of the stairs. She was talking quickly and avoided my eyes. She was nervous, but I couldn’t figure out why. It was steak night, her favorite. 

The Earth rattled; the cement foundations cracked. I remember her arms, wrapped so tightly around me I couldn’t breathe. We curled together at the bottom of the stairs. An eternity was equal to a second as our world shook. Dust choked us, until the dust changed to smoke.

“Fire,” She gasped. Before I could see her face, before I could read her expression, she dragged me upstairs.

What is the irony or climbing into Hell?

Into Hell we climbed. I kept my eyes on her back, her loose braid whipping in her frantics movements. We didn’t stop when we exited the back door. We didn’t stop when we burst out the yard. We didn’t stop until we reached the tree line by the road. She braced her body on the tree trunk, she had yet to turn around. Her haggard breathing turned into heaves. The base of the tree was watered in her vomit.

“Hey, hey.” I tried to to comfort her. She turned to me. Her eyes had once been so happy, so clear, and full of fiery determination. To this day, only that determination has remained.

“Your parents, they might be,” She gripped my arm. Her nails, usually clipped short, pinched into my skin. I barely felt it. She only shook her head. She slid to the ground, barely dodging her own vomit. Her entire body trembled.

“No.” She hissed. “They’re not.”

I went back later. I found her parents’ charred corpses. To this day, I know she saw them too, even though she never returned to that house.

She never returned to that neighborhood either.

She never returned to herself.

 

It took a few years to figure out what had happened, not that we cared. The first five years were the worst. We had to learn how to survive. Everyone did. The remainders at least. The Remainders. It’s what we called ourselves, at the start. Now you’d be lucky to be referred to as anything at all. 

I’m not sure how the trend started, but almost all of us gave up our names. I for one have practically forgotten my own name. I’m pretty sure the Commander is the only one who really remembers. The Commander is why we have made it this far. In the ten years wince the End of the World, almost half of the people I once knew have died.

It might seem obvious, but without power, all hospital patients passed within weeks. Winter took out more than we know. Still each winter leaves another frozen in the snow, finally sleeping peacefully.

The worst was disease. Another predictable result. It’s cruel, but now, we send the sick away. Unless someone is willing to go and look after them, we don’t see many come back. It’s changing now as our lives stabilize. Change doesn’t bring the dead back.

I wonder how the Commander can order it. How can someone look an old friend in the eye and offer either the hatchet or to spend weeks outside our walls until they are deemed healthy. I can’t argue, though. Not when I’m the one to carry out those very orders. No one cries or begs. This is our life now. The majority over the one. It’s the rule. The way. 

It’s survival.

 

I dream of her sometimes. The girl who huddled down with me in the basement. She hasn’t changed in my faulty memory, a blessing and a curse. She sits there, pale skin with deep bags under her eyes. Her eyes have always fascinated me. They’re bright blue, though they change depending on lighting. Sometimes they’re stealy-gray. They’re always bright and full of joy. She’s wearing a light layer of makeup, though always eyeliner. She’s either turning to reach for me, a too big smile shining like the sun, or hunched over me, eyeliner smeared, dust coating her skin, making her look like a statue.

When I wake from those dreams my heart hurts. 

Today my heart hurts.

I use to struggle in the mornings. The desire to live changes your habits. It’s for the best, but I hate the mornings. As I wake, the late summer sun has yet to peak over the horizon. We live in the Midwest, a place once known as Indiana. I’m not sure if state lines matter anymore. I haven’t left this more southern part of the state in almost a decade. 

The morning is sweltering. I cough and reach for my glass of water. After a quick swig and spit, I’m out of bed and reaching for my day clothes. In an effort to reduce the need for laundry, everyone tends to wear the same clothes for four days, with a set of clothes set aside for sleeping, to keep the sheets cleaner.

My usual attire consists of an overpatched pair of dark jeans, a shirt of indeterminable color, and a canvas jacket slung over my shoulders. If I join a hunting party I’ll bear the heat and wear it. It’s not totally and image thing, but it’s an image thing.

I scratch my head trying to determine if my scalp is itchy because it’s been almost four days since I last showered…. Or if we have another lice outbreak.

“Agent.” The sharp voice cracks the quiet morning. Any hope of an easy morning is gone. I turn to the Commander. Sharp grey eyes trapped in an eternal scowl bore into me. I don’t bother to dodge the upcoming conversation. You don’t really dodge the Commander, afterall. Especially when you owe a life debt.

“Your braids are uneven.” I try not to wince at the harsh tone. I know that I succeed, but I keep hoping that I’ll stop feeling the sense of failure whenever someone comments on my appearance. “I’ll fix them during breakfast. I want to discuss the day with you.” I merely nod and follow. Like I always do.

Like I always have.

  
  


It’s not hunting duty, but guard patrol. Even more a reason to wear the boiling hot canvas jacket. In late summer the grass is brown, the sky is pale blue, and the sun is hot. The Commander had braided my hair up and off my neck. It was a small relief, almost unnoticeable as I wiped sweat from my brow. It’s like a dumb metaphor for surviving this long.

The man in front of me holds up a fist, the group stopping immediately. He points to the distance. I curse as all I can see is a blurred mess of brown with hints of green.

“Agent, I think someone is walking this way.” The soldier shares. His eyes are too good if he can see so far. 

“Any details to report, Scope?” We called him Scope because of how well he could see. The Commander was Commander because of obvious reasons, and I was Agent. I always wondered why I didn’t get something like Hound, or Bitch. Anything the Commander asked, I did. I did it without question, without hesitation, without regret. Regret was for those not worried about survival.

Scope squinted into the distance. “Hmm, looks male? They’re definitely alone. Um, I also think he’s been spotted!” Scope gested slightly left of the figure, just now coming into my own line of sight. I cursed out loud this time.

“They know this is  _ our _ territory!” Snarls Terrier. Whether by luck, genes, or intentional alterations, Terrier had pronounced canines, and he loved flashing them.

“Commander ain’t gonna like this.” Pepper grumbled. She adjusted her crossbow. We watched the disconcerning dust cloud.

“It might not be them….” Scope was ever the optimistic.

“I see horses, and if I see them, you do too.” Pepper snapped. I cursed. I hadn’t seen the horses, but few other creatures caused dust to fly in such a distinct straight line for an extended period of time. 

“Damn Riders.” I huffed. The person approaching stumbled as they looked over their shoulder. They began running.

“He hasn’t seen us.” Terrier pointed out.

“He’s headed towards camp.” Pepper argued.

“Agent?” Scope raised his crossbow. Two options:  run to the gate and set up an armed response, screw the wanderer, or jump out and save the wanderer.

“Agent?” Terrier picked at his bowstring.

“What the hell?” Scope squinted.

“What?” I demanded.

“He’s in a hospital gown?” Damn my own curiosity.

I jumped out and waved down the wanderer. He turned towards us, his arms and legs pumping as he tried to outrun the line of horses behind him.

I heard my crew cursing as they set up defensive positions. As the Riders approached, I recognized the ringleader. As the wanderer reached us, so did the Riders. I threw the wanderer behind me as the leader barely stopped his horse inches in front of me. I didn’t flinch. I knew how to deal with Riders. The Commander had shown me how.

“Agent, is that you’re pretty little face I see?”

“Dismount, Beefstick.” It was hard to keep a straight face, but Beefstick admittedly had earned the Commander’s respect, and therefore mine. This meant we used his chosen name. Not that he hadn’t earned it. The man was huge. And I might know that is a fact for all of him.

“What are y’all doin’ so far out?” He dismounted. His shoulders were even with his horse’s. From what little I knew of horses, his wasn’t the biggest, but he was still big.

“This is our normal route. What are y’all doing so close to our borders? Wanna piss of Commander?”

“Naw. I ain’t a fool. We arranged in our last talks that this was my gang’s territory.”

“You sure you ain’t stupid? No way Commander would lt y’all so close to our gates!” Terrier snarled. I frowned and gave Terrier a sharp glare. I’d bop his nose if he were closer. Beefstick chuckled.

“Your next meeting with Commander is a week from now. Any property disputes can be carried out then.” I reminded him. Beefstick frowned at me. “Until then, our lines don’t move. You’re breaching our territory.” His frown deepened. “You don’t want to deal with us angry.”

“We get a 20 mile radius  from our main camp, the next 20 are free huntin’ land.” Beefstick said. As if I didn’t know. Commander had made me hike out the twenty miles one day to ensure it allowed enough space for safety and light hunting. I raised a singular eyebrow in response.

“And?”

“Well, our camp moved.”

“What?”

“Our camp moved. We still get our 20 miles, don’t we?” Beefstick smirked. He wasn’t dumb, I knew that, but I sometimes forgot when I saw him. I shouldn’t. It must be a stereotype I’ve kept from my childhood. The hulking, brawny man missing three teeth couldn’t be smart. Of course not. He had been one of us once. We used to have great conversations about future plans, but he disagreed with the Commander. He didn’t coup, but brought his arguments up to our secondary council. He left with the Commander’s blessing. He was one of the three main camps in the area that shared a vague 100 mile radius area.

“Why did you move your camp.” I demanded, trying to not get distracted by Beefcake’s biceps. Beyond being big, his suntanned skin shone with sweat, his blond hair falling perfectly uneven over his forehead. Just seeing his face eased some of the heartache from the morning. Well, his biceps at least.

“Y’all haven’t noticed?” He asked. I frowned. Beefstick rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I’ll explain at the meeting.” He thought for a moment. “That bastard mean anything to y’all.” He changed topic, apparently deciding and moving on in a moment. It was a common trait these days. Lingering often meant death.

I glanced over my shoulder at the wanderer. He cowering behind Scope, who was the largest in our group, though Beefcake had a couple inches on him. At least in height. 

“No. You?”

“Well, he triggered some of our snares. That could mean the difference between eating or starving tonight, you know.”

“If y’all need food…”

“Don’t start. We ain’t about to go carving a debt from the Commander. I’ve seen how that looks.” He fixed me with a look. I knew why. If I wasn’t indebted to the Commander, would I be a Rider now? I didn’t look away. Beefstick surrendered first.

“Be careful with that one, Agent. He doesn’t feel like one of us. I have no idea where he’s from.” He turned to mount his horse. He didn’t say anymore, ust led his posse away. Afterall, lingering meant death.

“Agent?” Scope was supporting the wanderer. He appeared to be completely unconscious. I scoffed.

“I guess we’re bringing him back.”

 

He woke just before we reached the camp. I was grinding my teeth as we approached the gate. Our current center of operations was the one-time courthouse of the town. It also happened to be near our south-eastern gate. Half of the gate was the river, so we boarded the boat. Pepper and Scope rowed across the river, which was disconcertingly low. However, as it was also late summer, not too unexpected. Soon fall would come and the rain would cause flooding, like normal.

“Where am I?” the wanderer asked, lifting his head from Terrier’s lap. Terrier was snarling. Commander had warned him his face would stay that way if he didn’t stop. I’m pretty sure he liked the look. The wander froze when he saw Terrier’s expression. I froze when I saw the wanderer’s eyes.

His eyes were clear, fresh water blue. His eyes sparkled with life, and if the softness of his jawbone hadn’t been so noticable (especially compared to the rest of us) the shine in his eyes would have proven how well fed he was. This was a person who had never experienced starvation. I was as jealous as I was concerned.

Where the hell could someone be so well fed in this new world?

“We’re heading to our Camp!” Scope answered, helpful as always.

“That doesn’t help me much.” the wanderer groaned. The boat reached the opposite shore. A guard gave me a confused look.

“Keep this on the DL.” I told her. She huffed in amusement.

“I can try, I bet half the camp knows by now.” I groaned. She had a point. The river gate was easy to secure because of how long it took to get from one side to the other. It also meant sneaking in an outsider was impossible. I was really out of it today.

“Just, hold off on telling the Commander?” I asked. The Guard shrugged.

“I won’t, and I’ll ask others to not, but I’’m also not gonna let you bring some outsider into here without getting him vetted.”

“What if Flower gave him the OK?” I asked. However the guard ignored me. She was staring at the wanderer. She took in his stain hospital gown, the softness to his jawline, the brightness of his eyes, hell the lack of grease in his hair.

“Agent, who the hell is this?” the guard hissed. I shrugged.

“I want to get answers before I present him to the Commander.” I admitted. 

“Who is this ‘Commander’? And can’t you guys just ask me my name, like, I don’t know, normal people!” I glared at the wanderer. He was too loud.

“Ok, what is your name?: Pepper asked, finishing securing the rowboat.

“David.” I know I was shocked speechless and thoughtless. It looked like the rest of the group was similarly affected. 

“So, you guys know my name now, tell who this ‘Commander’ is. The beefy guy mentioned him too.”

“Did he now?” I turned and froze. David and the others present did the same a half second later. “I have heard from Beefstick since our last meeting. Is there something I should know?” I swallowed and cleared my throat.

“He mentioned that he’ll bring it up next week. That and that the Riders have moved their camp. At least 40 miles, seeing as they considered the edge of our territory theirs.” The speaker turned towards me.

“You were going to report this, rapidly, no?” I felt that internal wince once again.

“Of course.”

“Um…” David interrupted. Terrier smacked the back of his head. “Ow! What gives, bastard! I just wanted to know who the hell this was!” David gestered aggressively to the newcomer, who actually now stood before a small crowd. I recognized a majority of the crowd as being the Secondary Council. 

I heard a snort, allowing to turn my attention back to the speaker. She was tall, though admittedly I had half an inch on her. Her skin was just starting to look leathery from almost a decade without proper suncare, a curse of being naturally pale. I myself was just a deep bronze from sun, the benefits of being of asian decent. Her shoulder were broad and square. Barely eating enough calories didn’t help her feminine figure much. While her breasts were naturally larger than mine, the light diet and tight binding made her almost flat chested to the unobservant eye. The lack of proper nutrition had also given her cheekbones sharper than a butchers blade. Her jawline looked carved from marble. Then came her eyes. No longer are her eyes bright blue, and joy left them a decade ago. Now, her eyes are the sharpest part of her visage, her eyes a deep stealy gray and just as cold.

Once we had been opposite in appearances, me as dark as she was light. The sun had evened out our skin tones somewhat, but her hair was literally gold as corn silk from the sun, while my own stayed blacker than ink. While I chose to keep my own hair long and braided, she kept hers shorn, letting it grow out enough to brush her ears in the winter than shaving it down again come spring.

Her smile had once been like sunshine. Now, as she smirked at David, it was more like watching lighting flash. Still bright and beautiful, but also terrifying.

“How could you not guess?” She had a mocking tone. David’s eyebrows rose as he understood. “I’m the Commander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/critiques!  
> I really want to hear thoughts about this because this story means a lot to me!


End file.
